Dempsey & Makepeace: April Fool
by Krato
Summary: Dempsey has done the unimaginable and fallen in love - and it's killing Harry.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1 – Love Isn't A Decision?**

 _"Love isn't a decision. It's a feeling. If we could decide who we loved, it would be much simpler, but much less magical." **Trey Parker and Matt Stone**_

* * *

"So how was it for you?"

Dempsey turned to watch Harry as she wended her way back to their desks, a mug of coffee in each hand.

She hadn't participated in the general chit-chat, preferring instead to listen to her colleague's humorous thoughts and observations on what had been their big night out.

"Interesting," she replied in that detached way of hers that drove Dempsey mad.

She handed him his hot drink and a supercilious smile. "A study in the fine art of treading eggshells whilst under the influence I would say."

Dempsey took his steaming mug from her, holding it gingerly at the rim and then transferring it sharply to the desk, a curse hissing from his lips.

"Maybe you just need to learn to let your hair down and loosen that corset a little, princess."

"Yes, well I don't always agree with mixing business with pleasure," Harry said smoothly, "at least not our particular business."

He laughed, pulling a biro from the tidy tube beside his stack of letter trays.

"Come on, you didn't have fun Saturday? Your guy Richard didn't have fun?"

It had been a unique occasion; not only the first official department _soiree_ but the fifth anniversary of SI-10's inception.

Their esteemed Detective Chief Superintendent, Gordon Spikings, proud of the achievements of his team had got the top brass to cough up for a meal at The Dorchester on Park Lane along with a hundred quid behind the bar. It had been a black-tie affair with a plus one of course. Truth was that most of the boys would have preferred a slap up at the local steak house and a bit of a boogie after though to a man, the sentiment was very much appreciated.

"It was a pleasant enough evening," Harry acquiesced.

"You shoulda stuck around; we moved on to Miss Blanche's Bar after The Black Orchid. We were tearin' up the joint by midnight."

Harry gave him a look. "That's what I was afraid of."

He watched her take a small sip of coffee before busying herself by sifting through a tediously large batch of surveillance photographs.

"Yeah, yeah. I've seen you in party animal mode, tiger," he growled quietly, a deep, rolling sound causing Harry to purse her lips. "I'm guessin' you an' Richie-boy had other plans though, hah?" he continued when Harry didn't respond.

"Actually yes," Harry said, trying to ignore the leering tone in his voice. "We'd been invited to a party his cousin was throwing. Double booked," she recapitulated.

"Meeting the family…" Dempsey left his implication hanging.

She merely smiled benignly. "Did April enjoy the evening?" she asked, turning the conversation to him.

That simple question seemed to wrong-foot him for a moment and he grinned in an uncharacteristically self-conscious fashion.

"Yeah, she had a great time. She was a little nervous at the start, not knowing anybody, the ritzy venue and all. And we haven't been dating for long."

"You've been going out together for three weeks I think she said? Maybe she doesn't realise that makes you practically engaged in your book."

"Funny," he passed it off. "But the guys seemed to like her and she liked them and their ladies an' by the end of the night, it was like she was one of the gang – fit right in there, y'know."

"Shame I left early then."

" _We could stay if you like – blow the party off,"_ Richard had said at around 10:15pm.

Things had livened up considerably after they'd left The Dorchester and moved on to The Black Orchid and Harry's date was more than happy to stick around. But she had felt uncomfortable and rather irritable and had been grateful for the excuse to leave. It had been shaping up to be a great night and she _should_ have been enjoying herself but…

"Yeah, it was a shame," said Dempsey with what sounded like genuine regret.

So, he wanted her approval probably - wanted to know that she'd liked April too. Normally he wasn't particularly concerned about what she thought of his girlfriends, mainly because he already knew. Once you'd met one, you'd met them all; attractive girls who were just a bit too aware of the fact, drowning in their own pseudo-sophistication and believing that sleeping with a man you'd just met because you chose to meant you were a strong, independent, modern woman.

Whilst Harry was all for equality between the sexes, she still held fast to old values which she liked to think were a by-product of her titled upbringing. That said, she had heard so many tales of wild hedonism and dark debauchery going on behind the closed doors of aristocratic houses down the centuries and through to present day (Camilla Clowey-Fawkes should be thoroughly ashamed of herself if the chestnut Arab/Laurent-Perrier incident was anything more than tittle tattle) that it made rather a joke of that theory. So maybe just her parent's noble and civilised attitude in the face of a steadily declining society had moulded her moral code.

But April seemed quite different. Suffice it to say, Harry's expectations of his latest 'squeeze' had been driven dramatically over to the perfectly acceptable side.

" _April, I'd like to introduce you to my partner, Harry Makepeace… Harry, say hello to my girl here, April."_

April had done a double-take and laughed. _"Oh God, I'm sorry… 'you're' Harry?! I hadn't realised, I mean, I'd just assumed Harry was a man!"_

She'd looked back at Dempsey with a reproving smile on her lips and asked, " _Honestly, Jim, why didn't you say?"_

He'd shrugged and simply said, _"Well, now you know."_

It had been at that point that Harry basically hadn't wanted to be there. Dempsey didn't talk about her to April; hadn't even got further than establishing that he had a partner by the sounds of it, even though they spent _how_ many hours at work together? _"I'd just assumed,"_ April had said which implied the need for a pronoun had never arisen.

It had hurt more than she could ever have anticipated, the idea that when in this woman's company, she, Harry, failed to register any significance to him.

And what did that mean? Was April _that_ special? Was she 'the one'? The thought made her insides shrivel and her mouth go dry. Up until now she had managed to keep it at bay, had refused to let herself acknowledge or even think about the strangely amorous feelings for Dempsey which had somehow developed over the past few months.

Suddenly, Dempsey cracked one of his broad sunshine-filled grins. "Hey, what say the four of us get together for dinner and drinks next weekend? Could be fun," he enthused.

"Oh sorry, not next weekend, we already have plans."

She knew she was just putting off the inevitable and sure enough, the invitation was extended to the weekend following. This in itself evoked a sinking feeling in Harry's stomach for the simple fact that he was planning ahead with April. They would be five weeks into their relationship. Still, she told herself, with Dempsey's track record, there was every chance the dinner date would come to nought – wouldn't it?

* * *

 **I haven't forgotten about 'Present Imperfect' even though it seems very much in the past right now. I've written another couple of chapters to it and once I've posted all of this new story, I'll definitely return to it.**

 **I won't be making that same mistake with 'April Fool' though as I've already written the whole story and will post at regular intervals.**

 **AF - Keeping my fingers crossed on the 'sucking in' front ;-)**


	2. Your Words Are My Food

**Chapter 2 – Your Words Are My Food**

 _"Your words are my food, your breath my wine. You are everything to me."_ _**— Sarah Bernhardt**_

* * *

He mentioned April a few times during the week and Harry feigned a lively interest on each occasion, anxious that he might question her lack of enthusiasm for his happiness otherwise.

She worked as a bank clerk at Lloyds. She was thirty-two and had moved in with her younger sister, Sue, six months previously after a five-year relationship had ended. The two sisters shared a flat together in Harrow On The Hill and Harry had had to bite back on the obvious disparaging slur on Dempsey's motivation for continuing the relationship.

On the following Monday, he had been full of the last-minute weekend away he had taken April on; a cosy little inn tucked away in the Hertfordshire countryside which incorporated all the romantic trappings one would expect of such a place including log fires, oak beams and fine dining. Surprisingly, he had refrained from mentioning the presence of any four-poster bed for which Harry was grudgingly grateful.

"We still on for Saturday night?" Dempsey checked on Wednesday as Harry drove them to The Spice House Indian take-away where they were following up on a lead.

She confirmed that she and Richard were indeed still 'on' for dinner and asked if he'd booked a table yet. When he named, 'Le Goût' a trendy little French restaurant in the West End, Harry found herself vaguely perturbed. It had only been open for a couple of months or so and she recalled commenting on it whilst driving past a few weeks ago (pre-April). He'd appeared interested and said they should maybe hit the joint one night. Now of course, their occasional after-work get togethers had ground to a halt by mutual understanding. Not that it really mattered but in her mind she had anticipated a meal there being just the two of them.

"Good choice, Lieutenant. I'm impressed," she congratulated. "That place has received some rave reviews."

* * *

The two couples pulled up almost simultaneously in their respective taxis. Dempsey, in his usual effervescent way greeted Richard like a long-lost brother whilst Harry received a jovial, "Lookin' fine, Makepeace," and a peck on the cheek – like an ever-present sister.

As he had sort of set the tone, Richard and April embraced and kissed cheeks followed by a similar display between April and Harry.

Harry noted her perfume, something floral with a breath of vanilla and her hair, longer and blonder than her own was this time not left loose but swept up into a casual bun with wavy tendrils about her face.

She really was rather beautiful Harry decided and felt a weird pang of jealousy when she realised that those pretty, pink-slicked lips that had just grazed her skin would no doubt be lovingly brutalized by Dempsey at the end of the night.

She had never experienced that emotion before in relation to any of his women. They were simply passing fancies to be either pitied or in some cases looked down upon for their easy virtue or worse still, blinkered naivety to Dempsey's charms. This hitherto unknown quantity had come as a bit of a shock.

"Lovely to see you again," she managed.

They were relieved of their coats once inside and shown to their table, April walking ahead of Harry so that she got a brief opportunity to covertly appraise her figure.

She was slim, bordering on petite, and an inch or two shorter than Harry. Her dress was French navy, tight fitting and just below the knee, shoulder pads accentuating her small waist and high heels flattering her legs and bottom. Desperate to find fault, the only negative she could come up with was that her handbag was more daytime than evening.

Silently she reprimanded herself for her pathetically trifling criticism.

She watched Dempsey gallantly pull out a chair for April and seat her at the table, bending his head low to murmur something in her ear before pressing his lips to her temple fondly. He caught Harry's stare and beamed, seemingly pleased to have the display of affection witnessed.

With their drinks order taken and menus handed out they chatted amicably whilst they perused their options.

Harry, who was seated opposite April at the table found herself studying the girl as she told them of a disastrous meal she had once eaten in a Chinese restaurant in Kilburn.

She had the most vivid blue eyes, light blue, forget-me-not blue didn't they call it? In natural daylight, how stunning would they look?

Dempsey was listening attentively and seemed to only have eyes for her. When her anecdote was done she sat back a little as they laughed and she lowered her head demurely. Her self-consciousness was endearing.

By the time the starters had been eaten and the main course served, the group was getting along famously. Richard took it upon himself to order another two bottles of wine for the table which Harry was pleased about because for some reason, she wanted Dempsey to know that her date was every bit as relaxed and confident as he.

"We'll all be sloshed by the end of the evening at this rate," she quipped, sliding her hand over to stroke Richard's arm in proprietary fashion. As part of her calculating subconscious had hoped, he responded by taking her hand and giving it a small squeeze.

"With a bit of luck," he returned with a wink, inciting more hilarity.

The food was excellent and none could resist ordering from the magnificent selection of desserts to finish off the meal. Harry and Richard both opted for the raspberry pavlova, April the crème brûleé and as Harry knew he would, Dempsey ordered the apple pie and cream.

"Oh boy, this is so good," Dempsey enthused, spooning the buttery pastry into his mouth. "Nothin' more American than apple pie."

"Except maybe tarte aux pommes," said Harry drily, causing April to giggle almost uncontrollably which set everyone else off too.

"Yeah, yeah," Dempsey half conceded. "I got it on good authority that the pastry chef here hails from Queens."

"Jim, you've got an answer for everything," April rolled her eyes, her face flushed from wine and merriment.

He leaned into her with a spoonful of pie aimed in her direction. Just try this, would ya? Seriously – it's incredible."

She opened her mouth to receive the morsel and Harry saw their eyes lock. Suddenly it seemed to be a powerfully intimate moment between them and one that she was far from comfortable with.

She smiled and averted her gaze to shield against the odd feeling of confused frustration that was quickly seeping into her chest. With controlled concentration, she dug into her pavlova in an effort to divert her thoughts.

"Mmm. I wish I'd had that now," sighed April, still gazing into Dempsey's eyes.

"Wanna swap?"

"Don't be silly, I wouldn't dream of stealing your favourite pudding in the whole wide world away from you."

"You want it, it's yours, baby," Dempsey said softly. He picked the plate up, offering the pie to her.

 _Oh, for heaven's sake! Bloody grow up._

They were acting like a couple of lovestruck teenagers. It just wasn't Dempsey at all. But then the idea came to her that maybe that was exactly it – maybe he was in love with April!

Richard turned to Harry then, mimicking Dempsey by lifting his own plate and saying aloud for them all to hear, "I'd offer you my dessert too, Harry but… well, there doesn't really seem much point." He peered comically at his raspberry pavlova, his expression one of solemn disappointment. Then giving her a foppish grin, the romantic interlude was broken up with more laughter and they all continued eating.

Fighting determinedly against the black mood threatening to ruin the rest of the evening, Harry took a large gulp of her wine as the conversation moved on. A glance at Richard gave her the opportunity to make a big show of removing a small gob of cream adhering to his upper lip.

"I can't take you anywhere," she admonished warmly, knowing Dempsey was taking in the show.

She might not be 'loved up' but she could make a damned good job of faking it. Not that she was entirely sure why she felt the need to do so, it was just the way Dempsey's whole personality seemed to have undergone some twisted transformation. April's presence had cooled his heels, tempering his character and reducing him down to a tepid, quieter version of his usual self.

Funny but she hadn't realised before that she didn't want him to change; his annoying, loud ways were what made him who he was and she actually very much liked who he was.

"Top you up, babe?" Dempsey asked.

"Please," Harry replied.

The very moment the word of acceptance was out of her mouth she realised her mistake but of course it was too late.

"I was talkin' to April," - whose glass he was now refilling, "or were you being ironic maybe?" he grinned. "You know irony gets diluted when it hits The Pond, Makepeace."

Richard and April had found it funny and fortunately, thanks in no small part to the alcohol, so did Harry to a lesser extent.

"She don't like it when I call her 'babe'," Dempsey explained, "ergo, it slips out pretty often."

"Your sense of humour has always been somewhat stunted, hasn't it?" she smirked, watching him switch to refilling her glass.

"Right now it's through the roof," he fired back, squooshing his lips together in that gesture so familiar to Harry, denoting he was holding onto the mirth bubbling within him.

"Well the bang on the head you must've received when you hit the ceiling would explain a lot."

Richard nearly choked on a mouthful of wine as he raised his left hand. "Alright now children, that's enough."

"Hard to believe they're allowed to play with guns around each other at work isn't it, Richard?" giggled April.

Dempsey sunk lower into his chair and glowered at Harry, the fire in his eyes indicating annoyance to outsiders but to Harry it communicated the adrenaline rush that their sparring had generated. He extracted a couple of cigars from his inside breast pocket and offered one to Richard who readily accepted.

"You mind, honey?" he asked April.

Twirling her wine glass by the stem, Harry glowered right back, hating the fact that he could create such hugely conflicting emotions within her… and strangely loving it at the same time.


	3. Keeping In Touch

**Chapter 3 – Keeping In Touch**

 _To give and receive love, you have to be in touch with pain, you have to be capable of provoking it and feeling it._ **-** **Jeanne Moreau**

* * *

"There's a perfectly decent canteen downstairs, Lieutenant," called Spikings on the way back to his office. "We don't need you stinking out the place with those greasy fried breakfast rolls, do we?"

Stopping at the threshold briefly, he sniffed the air with a perverse appreciation before shutting the door behind him.

"The wife's got him on a diet again," said Chas confidentially as he dropped a memo on first Dempsey's and then Harry's desk.

"Again?!" Harry and Dempsey groaned in unison.

Dempsey added under his breath, "That's just peachy."

"He was like a bear with a sore head last time," Harry remembered. "I don't think she understands the sort of flack we have to put up with when he's on an enforced health kick."

Launching his feet up onto the desk, Dempsey mused, "You think she has him in a leotard and sweatbands in front of the T.V workin' out with the Green Goddess?"

Chas shuddered at that mental image. "You're a sick man, Jim, you know that?"

"He'll be even sicker if he eats the rest of that rubbish," said Harry, eyeing the half-eaten bread roll lying on a grease-soaked paper bag. Its' contents of fatty bacon, sausage and fried egg had spilt out like something that belonged on the autopsy table rather than the dinner table. "It smells disgusting," she complained.

"At least it smells of something!" Dempsey retorted, "lettuce leaves an' carrot sticks don't get the old juices flowin'. You gotta smell it before you eat it otherwise it's a shock to the system… real bad for the digestion. You never heard that?"

"No, I don't believe have," she replied suspiciously, "because you're making it up, aren't you?"

He feigned indignation. "It's true! Don't come runnin' to me when you get a stomach ache and heartburn, that's all I'm sayin'."

Harry merely glanced at his breakfast again with a grimace.

After taking a swig of coffee, Dempsey tackled it once more, biting awkwardly at the unwieldly, oozing article.

"Mind you, I gotta say, this ain't nowhere near as good as April makes." He grinned, wiping egg yolk from the corner of his mouth. "She gets my bacon crispy, my pork sausage succulent an' my egg as sunny as a June morning," he praised.

 _Oh, for God's sake! Do you really think I care what the bloody woman gives you for your breakfast?_

"Sounds like you've bagged yourself some wife material there, pal. Your bachelor days could be numbered."

This from Chas – solid, dependable, logical Chas - happily married Chas. For once, Harry wasn't interested in his opinion.

But Dempsey just chuckled and carried on eating.

She'd expected some vehement denial, an assurance that he would _never_ be caught up in the chains of domesticity but none was forthcoming and it felt to her like the subject had been left in limbo.

She removed herself from the conversation by picking up the 'phone and quickly flicking through the yellow pages on her desk. She was already getting the staccato 'mis-dial' beeps as she'd known she would but holding the receiver whilst appearing busy conveniently excluded her from further interaction.

Chas went back to handing out the memos to the rest of the team and Harry relaxed a bit.

That wasn't really going to happen was it? Would Dempsey eventually 'settle down' with April? It was ridiculous just how much the idea got to her… why it got to her. That she wanted him for herself didn't seem right… she didn't… did she? She just enjoyed his company, wanted him around, wanted to keep the status quo.

In the entire time she had known him, this was the first time she had felt that a meal together after work would be inappropriate, that a midweek trip to the cinema was no longer an option, in fact, spending any time with him at all when it was out of hours just couldn't happen anymore. He'd never talked about any other woman the way he did April. It was as though something had clicked into place in his life and Harry was now surplus to requirements.

Of course, he hadn't said any such thing and spoke and acted no differently in her presence but in Harry's mind, things had altered and bigger changes would come.

* * *

"Me an' April are goin' to Miss Blanche's Friday night."

The mention of her name felt like she'd been thumped hard in the chest; a sudden impact followed by waves of nausea.

"You remember that guy we saw around Camden Lock last Summer? The black guy, played blues guitar like he was dyin' an' you said I should hold you back 'cause you wanted to squeeze his chubby little cheeks?"

Yes, she remembered it and it brought a momentary rise of pleasure within her.

"Did I?"

Dempsey pushed his sunglasses further up the bridge of his nose. "You hit the Pimms pretty hard that afternoon," he said with a grin.

"And you were rather unsteady on your feet yourself as I recall," she softly retaliated. "Sylvester – wasn't that his name?"

"Yeah that's him. Playin' a gig at Miss Blanche's and I thought you an' Richard should come along too."

Harry wanted to say no but she didn't feel comfortable using the 'other plans' excuse again so left it that she would consult Richard before accepting. Another night out with the happy couple wasn't high on her agenda though. April was lovely; intelligent, beautiful, unassuming, easy-going, in fact there really wasn't anything to dislike which made it all the harder for Harry to deal with. She desperately needed there to be flaws because if she saw them, eventually Dempsey would too. Not that any of these thoughts and feelings had crystalized; they merely lay at the back of her consciousness, there to be awoken, poked at and prodded whenever April's name came up. It made her confused. Yes, she and Dempsey were friends, their relationship having evolved over time from mutual dislike to a precarious respect to finally arrive at where they were today which was… friends didn't quite hit the mark. Friends didn't have that certain something simmering away beneath the surface, did they? There shouldn't exist the sort of tension that so often arose between them; a tension that had nothing to do with crossed words or bad feeling. But since April had become a permanent feature, things were different and that tension had slowly dissipated. Sometimes she thought it was still there, that veiled attraction that could so easily spill over into irresistible passion with just a few words or a certain look – but no, it was simply her imagination. After so long, knowing that it could potentially happen, wondering if one day it might, she was just having a hard time accepting that Dempsey was no longer an 'option' available to her.

Harry mentioned Dempsey's invitation in passing when they went for a drink the following night. Richard latched onto the idea immediately and she was forced to agree the double date with her partner.

* * *

They were to meet up at 8:00pm, an hour before Sylvester was due to perform.

Harry had made a concerted effort to look good tonight, her hair, make-up and dress all worthy of a Hollywood red carpet. She had also deliberately kept the taxi Richard had picked her up in waiting for a few minutes in the hopes that Dempsey and April would already be at Miss Blanche's and she could make her entrance in full view of them. Some mean streak inside her wanted Dempsey's eyes out on stalks because she just needed to know that there was still something there, that she hadn't become invisible to him. That it might cause April unease was of small consideration. Richard was full of compliments of course and when they entered the bar at ten past the hour, he took her hand to stake his claim as they found their way to the table Dempsey and April were at.

Though he tried to remain impassive, she caught the initial sharp tilt of his head and the twitch of his mouth as his eyes drank her in. But then it was gone and she noticed that his hand lay over the top of April's on the table. Smiling broadly, Harry gave a small wave as they approached.

"Hello you two. Sorry we're late – all my fault."

Dempsey stood, leaning across the table to place a perfunctory kiss on her cheek, his hand momentarily at her waist as last time. She relished being this close to him; the caress of his mouth, the brief warmth of his upper body against hers, the smell of him.

"Not a problem. We only just got here ourselves, didn't we babe?" he said, turning his head to smile mawkishly at April.

"All your fault," April murmured intimately with her eyelashes lowered.

Harry could scarcely stand it. How she was going to get through the rest of the night, she had no idea.

She told herself she was simply being a dog in the manger, she only wanted him because somebody else had him. And even if she really did want him for herself, she'd left it too late. She'd had so long to let Dempsey know she was actually interested, so many lost opportunities that he'd presented her with. But she was probably only fooling herself. He'd never looked at her in a truly romantic way and even if she'd accepted those lusty, teasing advances, it didn't mean he would ever have fallen for her like he had for April.

A bottle of white wine arrived at the table along with two pints of lager.

"Oh, lovely," said Richard. "Thanks."

Dempsey had put the order in as soon as they'd arrived apparently which was just as well as the bar was now starting to fill up, with every table taken.

The wine was poured and Harry took a first, fortifying gulp. It was cold, deliciously fruity… and hard to swallow. All her emotions had gathered into a lump at the top of her throat and she cursed herself for being so silly. But the moment passed and she tuned into the conversation again, with Richard telling them about a trip to The States ten years previously where he'd visited New Orleans during Mardi Gras.

She couldn't help but watch April; she was quite captivating, very fresh and natural and she carried no pretentiousness about her despite her obvious charms. She had her head screwed on too and didn't seem the type of woman to let herself get messed around by the likes of Dempsey. She couldn't be labelled, certainly not fitting any of the moulds which he would be familiar with anyway.

April was just a nice, normal girl-next-door who happened to have enough sex-appeal to fell a battalion. Funny but it had never really occurred to her until these last few weeks that Dempsey might actually want a wife and children and Rover lying beside the hearth.

The old adage that music soothes the savage breast was shown to be thankfully accurate.

The darkness lurking in Harry's mind was cast out by the time Sylvester was into the third number. His bluesy, soulful style picked her up and deposited her in calmer waters where she was able to unwind. She had a bit of a wobble when Dempsey put his arm around April's shoulders. The couples were sat either side of the small rectangular table, facing towards the semi-circular alcove where Sylvester was singing and Harry had the pair directly in her sightline. Every so often, one of them would turn and with head bent, make some comment or other, looking so perfect together, so in love.

When the interval came, almost in retaliation, Harry draped herself all over Richard. She had no idea why, after all, it wasn't like it was going to arouse even a modicum of jealousy in Dempsey but would no doubt arouse something significant in Richard. She wasn't being fair to him. She knew she was at this stage just using him to appease her malcontent. The only reason she was still seeing him was to prove to Dempsey that if he was capable of sustaining a relationship for this length of time then she most certainly was!

She liked Richard, of course she did. He was nice. He was handsome, and he was safe. And that was why it was doomed to failure. Harry didn't do 'safe', at least, not these days. She had done her duty as far as family was concerned by fitting in with tradition and marrying a nice young man from good stock and look where that had got her. But she had always craved an element of danger which was what had eventually lead her to join the police force – it had been her calling. And now, here she was playing it safe again for the most illogical of reasons – because she couldn't deal with a work colleague being in love!

Towards the natural conclusion of the evening, when Sylvester had finished his set and the second bottle of wine was all but empty, an accident occurred which firmly drew a line under things.

Harry was returning from a visit to the ladies, reaching out a hand to the back of a wooden bar chair to guide herself when the occupant of the chair, a young man in his early twenties sitting with a couple of friends chose to scoot backwards as he got to his feet. The result was that Harry's forefinger on her right hand got violently clamped between the back of that chair and the one behind it. She let out a resonating cry of anguish, clutching her hand in agony as various people sprang to her aid. It was excruciatingly painful and she broke out in a hot flush as a wave of nausea hit her.

"Lemme see," said a dark voice from the mêlée and suddenly Dempsey was there having pushed his way to her side.

"I'm alright," she grated, tears induced by shock leaking from her eyes as he held her hand up in his.

"Yeah, sure."

The finger was red and already horribly swollen.

"I'm really sorry," the man whose chair had done the damage said. "I didn't realise…"

But Dempsey cut him off aggressively. "You dumb klutz, throwin' yourself around the bar… you need to learn to hold your liquor, kid!"

The young man looked contrite and a little worried. "It was an accident, honestly. I just didn't see her."

"Then you need to open your freakin' eyes!"

"Dempsey!" Harry berated him through gritted teeth. He didn't do it on purpose."

"It's broken. You need a doctor."

"Do you want to sit down, love?" asked somebody behind them, somebody else saying in grimacing tones, "Ooh, that looks nasty."

Richard and April had appeared too.

"I think maybe I should get you to hospital, Harry, have it looked at," Richard advised.

She nodded in agreement, still feeling awfully sick. "Possibly," she said faintly.

But then Dempsey took charge of the situation and said to April, "Grab her coat would ya? I'm gonna get her in a cab an' take her myself."

"No need, Jim," Richard started, "you and April stay here and enjoy the rest of your evening."

Dempsey's girlfriend returned with Harry's long, black coat and hung it around her shoulders, offering platitudes to the pale faced accident victim.

"I got this," he replied gruffly, not even looking his way, instead, his eye mapping out the best route to get him and Harry out of the bar with the least amount of fuss.

Richard looked a bit disgruntled. "It's fine. Really. I can take it from here. Okay, Harry? Shall we go, darling?" He put his arm about her waist and encountered Dempsey's arm already about her back.

"Look, I really don't care who takes me.." Harry snapped with an understandable degree of tetchiness.

"She's my partner, it's kind of a thing. We take care of each other, ya know? Do me a favour okay, buddy an' see April home safe for me."

This was clearly his final word on the matter.

And then he briskly ushered her from the bar and out into the street in search of a taxi of which, fortunately there were three already lined up to take patrons home only a hundred yards away on the left.

* * *

 **I have to say that my gast has been completely flabbered by the amount of reviews I've received already! It's really surprised me so huge thanks to all who put fingers to the 'board.**

 **The bit at the beginning about Spikings in a leotard and the Green Goddess feels horribly familiar, like I've pinched it from somewhere but I've searched t'internet and can't find any reference either in fanfic, D &M quotes or anywhere else so I'll just apologise to anyone who recognises it.**


	4. Call It Fate

**Chapter 4 – Call It Fate**

 _ **Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate**_ **–** **Carl Jung**

* * *

"Good weekend?" Chas asked and then noticing the two fingers of her right hand strapped together said, "Have you been bar room brawling again, Harry?"

Dempsey chuckled.

Chas' eyebrows rose when she replied, "Close. I was in a bar when it happened but I was being impeccably well behaved."

"I don't doubt it. So, what happened?"

"Chas?!" Spikings stuck his head round the door of his office. "Got a minute?"

"His master's voice," Chas muttered. "You can fill me in later."

Silence reigned for several minutes between the partners until Dempsey peeked at her from over the top of a manilla file.

"So?"

Harry looked up. "So what?"

"On a scale of one to ten, how badly did I screw up your weekend?"

She gave a small smile, not looking at him. "Has anyone ever told you, you have an exaggerated opinion of your own importance?"

"What, is that like a seven – or an eight, maybe?"

She rummaged for something – anything - in her desk drawer as a distraction and came up with a single paperclip. Rather awkwardly, given the state of her finger, she proceeded to fix a random selection of documents together. "Am I supposed to have some idea of what you're talking about?"

She knew full well what he was talking about.

"I'm thinking I probably ain't rating too high on Richard's love-o-meter right now. Am I right?"

"Oh, because you stepped in and escorted me to hospital on Friday night?" She thought it best to play it cool.

"Yeah, that." He held a pen at either end between fingers and thumbs. "Kinda stepped in wearin' my size ten jack-boots though, didn't I? Treadin' all over his machismo."

"Did you? Maybe Richard's more comfortable with his masculinity than you give him credit for."

She leaned forward and slid the sheaf of papers she still held into the middle one of her stack of letter trays. "Or maybe…" she looked him in the eye, pushing him down with a smirk, "it simply means you're uncomfortable with yours."

Dempsey made a show of pointing a finger at his own chest, checking over first one and then the other shoulder as though searching for this mystery man to whom Makepeace might be referring.

"Who me? I'm so comfortable with it I'm horizontal – thereby proving my case, if you get my meanin'," he grinned.

"No, Dempsey, I don't believe I do. Aren't those virile, testosterone-filled days of debauchery behind you now?" she goaded.

"Not at all," he said smoothly, "just that I get to focus my bad self all on one woman now."

Harry wrinkled her nose and said with distaste, "Yeeees, lucky April."

"An' before you ask, no, she didn't have a problem, me takin' you to the emergency room. She thought it was _sweet_ ," Dempsey defended. "Oh, and according to her, I'm a true gentleman."

Harry let out a short bark of a laugh. "Ha! The poor girl's obviously delusional."

He scowled. "Thanks a bunch. Next time some douche-bag socks you in the kisser and you wind up kerbside, I'll be sure an' leave you there. Seems the only person didn't appreciate my efforts was you!"

Now she'd gone over the line and upset him.

She sighed, letting him know they should call a truce.

"Of course I appreciated what you did for me but you did rather… well… wade in and take over."

"Like I said at the time, you're my partner an' I look out for you. It was just instinct kickin' in an' if I went treading on anyone's toes then I apologise, okay?"

She frowned a little. Instinct. He really knew how to make a girl feel special. "And like _I_ said, nobody's toes were trodden on. You see, this is what happens when you mix business with pleasure but anyway, apology accepted."

But as it happened, she was lying shamefully. She and Richard had had, if not a blazing row then a very heated discussion over the way Dempsey had commandeered the situation on Friday night. He had been furious apparently but had held his tongue, aware that anger and alcohol didn't mix and knowing there would very likely be a scene if he voiced his true opinions.

Where the bloody hell did the cocky, presumptuous American get off thinking it was acceptable to take charge like that? Dempsey was a work colleague and he, Richard was her boyfriend so wasn't it glaringly obvious who should have taken responsibility for Harry's welfare given the situation?

Harry had found herself defending Dempsey's actions to the hilt. Richard couldn't possibly understand, they weren't simply colleagues, they were partners, each entrusting the other with their lives on a daily basis. They depended on each other in a way that would be totally alien and incomprehensible in a normal working relationship. They weren't teachers or librarians for heaven's sakes, they were police officers!

It was at this point Richard questioned whether or not he was seeing the full picture. Had they ever had a relationship outside of work, Richard wanted to know.

"Yes," Harry had acknowledged with bitter sarcasm, "yes, it's been going on for quite some time and it's called a _friendship_."

But he wasn't settling for that. "I'll accept that you're 'just good friends' but that doesn't mean you haven't slept together."

"We haven't," she'd thrown back angrily.

"Not even once?"

"Oh, Dear God, you make it sound like I might have forgotten!"

 _Comatose, lobotomised, anaesthetised and deep frozen_

She knew she wouldn't have done that. Never in a million years.

"I was just thinking that once might've been viewed as a silly mistake and best swept under the carpet… lest that beautiful _friendship_ be ruined."

She was incensed.

"So, sex would explain what you see as him being over-protective but friendship doesn't?"

"It's call biology."

Harry had checked her wristwatch exaggeratedly. "I think it's possibly time you shuffled off back to your cave, isn't it? Give me a call when you've evolved sufficiently enough to re-join the 1980's."

"Ha! That's rich, Harry, seeing as he was the one beating his chest and dragging you off like some... some... Yankee-Doodle Jimber-Jaw!" he had remonstrated fiercely.

They hadn't spoken since and Harry was absolutely positive she wasn't going to make the first step towards any kind of reconciliation.

Over the days that followed Dempsey didn't mention April's name at all but then neither did Harry mention Richard's.

He'd 'phoned her on Monday night, if not exactly apologetic, at least willing to accept her point of view. She hadn't expected to feel ecstatic that he wanted to make it up with her – and she didn't. She just still had this notion that if Dempsey could sustain a relationship this long then she should be able to as well. And what would it look like in his eyes if they ended it? That he'd succeeded where she'd failed? Would he crow over his own romance? She didn't think she's be able to stomach that. If she could trip along quite merrily in what was fast becoming a long-term relationship without being in love then maybe she could make herself believe that that was what he was doing too.

* * *

"Need some advice, Makepeace," he said at the end of the working week.

They were in a sandwich bar in Clapham. It was lunchtime and they had just joined the end of a queue at the counter. She gave him an incredulous look. "You're asking _me_ for advice?"

"I know it's hard to believe so make the most of it 'cause it's most probably a one-time thing."

She suddenly had an inkling that this could be April-related and her stomach sank. She didn't respond, waiting for him to continue.

"I'm 'err…" His head tucked slightly into his collar and he rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm meeting April's parents this weekend an' I was wondering if you've got any tips, ya know, words of wisdom?"

"Is this a wind-up?"

He appeared hurt. "No, I'm serious. I wanna make a good impression."

Harry half laughed, conveying her sentiments on the absurdity of his request.

"You're a grown man! You must have met girlfriend's parents before."

"Pipe down, would ya," he growled out of the corner of his mouth, "we're havin' a private conversation here."

He moved in to stand closer to her. "Yeah, course I have but not since I've lived over here. I've never met British parents before."

Well he wouldn't have, would he. He'd been too busy sowing his wild oats to get close enough to anybody for that.

"Parents are parents the world over aren't they?" she asked, not really wanting to be having this conversation.

"I don't know, that's why I'm askin'," Dempsey bleated. "Maybe they'll be uptight over their daughter dating an American."

"Maybe they will, who knows?! Shouldn't you be talking to April about this rather than me? They're her parents, she knows them best."

"Because I'm forty, not fourteen and I need her to think I'm totally cool with it."

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Harry exclaimed.

"So gimme some pointers. How would your old man react if it was you – or is he not a great example, what with him bein' a Lord an bein' a part of the British aristocracy and everythin'? Like he'd get his breeches in a twist that the bloodline would get polluted, right?"

"I really don't think that would be a concern for Freddie and I'm almost certain he'd be happy with whoever I chose to bring home to meet him because he'd respect my judgement which I'm sure April's parents will too."

"Her folks are originally from Yorkshire," he continued. "What should that say to me? Where does that sit in the class system you got goin' on in this country? Is Yorkshire the same kinda place as Herefordshire or Hampshire? I'm thinkin' you live someplace with a 'shire' at the end of the name

, you got it made. 'cause the 'shires' we got in The States, they're like, woah, big bucks, high class, rich people territory."

Harry could scarcely believe he was getting so rattled over this. Very little fazed him and certainly not 'people'.

"Well, you'll be needing your flat cap and whippet," she said for her own amusement, knowing the joke would be lost on him.

"My what?"

They had reached the front of the queue and Dempsey ordered a turkey club sandwich with extra mayo hold the onion.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," she admonished quietly.

"Whad I do?"

"Can't you just accept that the turkey club sandwich is made with a set amount of mayonnaise and comes with onions?"

"But I like mayo an' I don't want onion breath so what's the big deal?"

"Then pick the onions out! And would you ask for extra turkey?"

No, I wouldn't. That ain't how it works; you swap the small stuff, leave out what you don't want."

He called to the man who was busy making his order up. "Hey, fella! Am I right or am I right?"

The man, looking a bit harassed, said pointedly, "To be honest mate, most people take what's already there." He indicated the rows of white paper bags lying neatly stacked inside the glass fronted cabinet which formed part of the counter, "'specially when it's busy."

Dempsey looked quite grumpy. "Well, if I like my sandwich, I'll be sure and tell ALL my friends, okay?" he said peevishly.

"Just a chicken salad sandwich, please," Harry asked politely. Somehow it didn't seem appropriate to request brown bread without butter.

They took the short walk over Clapham Common to Eagle Pond where they sat on one of the benches beneath the coppice trees. It was chilly but the blue sky and weak white sunshine made it sufficiently pleasant to spend their lunch break outdoors. For a while they simply watched the ducks and swans drifting serenely upon the steely blue waters as they ate their food.

Harry enjoyed these times when minutes of companionable silence ticked by to be broken occasionally by quirky observations of their surroundings; sometimes humorous 'the meaning of life' questions would be posed other times deep and meaningful conversations took place apropos of nothing.

A magpie alighted upon the path a few yards away, its black and white plumage so sleek and stark that it seemed to almost shimmer in the sunshine.

"Good morning, Mister Magpie, how's your lovely wife?" Harry whispered under her breath.

"How's that?" asked Dempsey. "Is that from a poem or something?"

"No. I don't know really. You're supposed to say it to ward off bad luck if you happen to see a magpie on its own. They mate for life, don't they? It's unlucky not to see them as a pair."

"Cute," was all he said.

The bird hopped on a few feet and stopped again, looking around before calling.

"You think there's such a thing as soul mates, Harry?"

Instantly, the pretty tableau froze before her eyes and she felt the tranquillity of the moment ebbing away.

The piece of sandwich she was chewing refused to be swallowed as her throat seemed to seize.

"I'd very much doubt it," she replied carelessly after she'd pulled herself together. "It's only about being on the same wavelength and having common ground isn't it and there must be thousands of people in the world with whom it would be possible to make that connection," she pointed out airily.

He was completely smitten with April, wasn't he? Whatever might have been, whatever they had even, it would never be the same again. He had found a woman who meant more to him than any other ever had and his world was changing.

"You don't think fate draws people together, maybe?"

She looked at him from the corner of her eye. He was still watching the magpie too, a faint smile curving his mouth.

"But by that token, fate draws every person we ever meet, it's we as individuals who decide whether or not one particular person is of exceptional significance and surely that's down to pure, animal magnetism once common ground has been established."

He nodded and sat back, thrusting his left hand into the pocket of his jacket whilst he continued to eat his sandwich with his right.

"That's true but it has to be fate that makes that initial introduction; that allows us to meet in the first place. Like, I wound up in a foreign country to find my destiny. That has to be fate, right?"

She smiled, wryly. "I rather think it was your Captain O'Grady."

Dempsey laughed at that. "Yeah, maybe I should send him a basket of fruit and a thank you note."

He sounded so keyed up and buoyant, like he was on the verge of something exciting. She should be happy for him but she only saw him slipping away. He'd been there all along but now it was too late.

"Now that _would_ be tempting fate, Dempsey." The attempt to inject warmth and humour into the words failed miserably and she ended up sounding depressingly negative.

But strangely that seemed to only magnify Dempsey's exuberance. He wriggled himself up so that he was sitting on the edge of his seat and grabbing at the polystyrene foam cup he'd got his tea in, raised it to Harry.

"I'm a big believer in tempting fate, Makepeace," he said with a grin. "You want something to happen bad enough, you gotta make sure you got all the cards in your hand and do whatever it takes to get the gods smilin' on you."


	5. The Difference

**Chapter 5 – The Difference**

 _The difference between friendship and love is how much you can hurt each other._ **Ashleigh Brilliant**

* * *

During the first week of March, Harry acquired four tickets to see Madam Butterfly in Covent Garden Opera House. Her father had been along to some charity bash and won them in the raffle. Apparently, he'd had his eye on the Baron De Sigognac Armagnac but it wasn't to be and as he wasn't fussed about organising a London trip at short notice, Freddy thought his daughter should benefit from his good fortune instead.

With some reluctance, Harry decided she and Richard should invite Dempsey and April to join them. The last thing she wanted was to spend another evening watching the pair sharing tender moments but she was aware that Dempsey had invited them out on the two previous occasions and politeness dictated that they should reciprocate.

Richard hadn't held back when it came to making his feelings known and almost managed to convince her that his friends, Max and Rosalind were far worthier recipients of the extra tickets as they lived outside of London and would appreciate a night out in the big city. He steadied Harry's resolve though when he voiced the assumption that Dempsey wasn't exactly likely to be a fan of opera anyway. "And I can hear the oh so predictable 'Suzuki' jokes already."

"We owe them a night out, Richard, they're free tickets and you won't have to make conversation because nobody will be speaking for two hours or more. It isn't too much to ask, is it?"

It succeeded in shaming Richard into agreeing which just left Harry to convince herself she could get through it.

But in the end ironically, it all came to nought anyway. They wouldn't be able to make it, Dempsey told her, because, ' _we're visiting Tom and Trisha this weekend_ '.

April had mentioned them on their last night out, Tom and Trisha being her younger brother and his wife who resided in Liverpool. ' _She's had the baby now so we gotta go make goo-goo eyes and practice the baby-babble.'_ He was making all the right noises but Harry could tell he didn't see the visit as a chore, in fact, he seemed quite hyped about it.

They'd been going out for close to three months now, since just after Christmas and the longer it had gone on, the more Harry had missed him. Their friendship had developed unexpectedly and other, deeper feelings aside, she was now realising how important those occasional nights out on the town, the frequent quick drink after work and sundry meet-ups actually were to her. She had lost that friendship to a large extent, leaving behind their close working relationship - a solid partnership built on trust and respect… and it wasn't enough.

She supposed that she had always felt important to him until now. The steady stream of girlfriends that filtered through his bedroom had been tolerable because she had never been one of them, yet was a constant in his life which made her a cut above them and his equal to her mind. April had come along, usurped her position and surpassed it leaving Harry hurt and discarded and inexplicably, horribly alone.

She should do the decent thing where Richard was concerned. It wasn't working for her anymore. The first couple of weeks had been fun but shortly after, when Dempsey started seeing April, it was more of a distraction and then finally a sop to her confusion.

She had been off with him lately; cold and distant, deliberately argumentative. When he'd asked her if she wanted to end it, she had, instead of being honest, apologised and taken him to her bed to assuage her rejection of him. Such a ludicrous situation to be in – she needed Richard because she needed Dempsey more.

* * *

The next week, Dempsey seemed unusually subdued. He barely mentioned his trip to Liverpool until, feeling awkward about her lack of interest, she asked him for details. He answered her questions but didn't elaborate and she knew he'd sensed her mood and figured she was simply bored with this new, domesticated Dempsey.

On the Thursday, they were obliged to work late, tying up the ends to an embezzlement case. It wasn't easy as it required a lot of concentration and a lot of paperwork. By a quarter past seven the task was complete to what they hoped would be Spikings' satisfaction.

Despite the fact they had just effectively shut the case, Dempsey seemed strung out – nervous even.

"Are you alright?" she asked, watching him hovering by the window, coffee cup in hand, unable to stand still for more than a few seconds.

He turned to her, clawing at the back of his neck in agitation. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Long day."

"You seem… restless."

He shrugged. "Maybe a little."

He seemed to come to a decision then and the empty mug went down on the nearest desk with a bang.

"D'you need to go straight home? You got time for a drink?"

He definitely had something he needed to get off his chest.

* * *

 **I know this was only a very short chapter, which is why I'm going to post chapter 6 later on tonight. Reviews of any length very much appreciated ;-)**


	6. Do Not Fear To Speak The Truth

**Chapter 6 - Do Not Fear To Speak The Truth** **  
**

 _We all need friends with whom we can speak of our deepest concerns, and who do not fear to speak the truth in love to us. **Margaret Guenther**_

* * *

The Bramcote Arms, the SI-10 local watering hole, was quiet being mid-week and they chose a small, round table over in the corner with Harry on the end of the banquette and Dempsey on a padded stool.

He'd drunk a third of his lager before he'd even set it on the table, Harry noted as she sipped her white wine.

They made small talk for the first ten minutes during which time, Dempsey managed to finish the remainder of his pint.

"I'll tell you what, why don't you let me buy you another one of those and then you can tell me what's bothering you."

He offered up his empty glass along with a beleaguered expression.

She was at the bar for several minutes as the barman who served her had just returned to The Bramcote after a year-long stint working at a bar on Tenerife and they'd had a bit of a catch-up.

When she eventually arrived back at their table, Dempsey was more anxious than ever as the remnants of a shredded beer mat could attest to.

"So." She shook out a handful of the dry roasted peanuts she'd just bought and passed the bag to Dempsey. "Tell Auntie Harriet all about it."

He managed a half-hearted smile but that was all. It was unusual for him to show signs of emotional distress. It wasn't his thing. If something was on his mind, causing him a problem, it would generally come out before it got to that stage either in a torrent of anger or wrapped in humour. It appeared that on this occasion, he was lost for an outlet.

But Harry had had plenty of time to ponder his behaviour and it was with a guilty heart that she gained pleasure from her conclusion - Dempsey and April were on the brink of ending things. Something had gone wrong with their relationship. She didn't really care who was the dumper and who was the dump-ee although his stress levels would seem to indicate that he was the one suffering. Not something Dempsey was used to, certainly, but people recovered from lost loves eventually and she, Harry would be right here to pick up the pieces. And she would let him see that she would _always_ be here now.

"Okaaaaay…" he breathed. "I'm errr… well, I'm planning on doing something that… well, something that I didn't think I'd ever do… to be honest with you, it's scaring the shit outa me."

Harry sat up straight, her concern for her partner as he struggled with his burden suddenly veering off in a different direction.

His hand went inside his jacket and at the exact same moment the black leather ring box was revealed to her, Harry guessed what Dempsey's weighty problem was.

"You're going to ask April to marry you?!"

He grinned sheepishly. "That's the idea." He opened up the little box to reveal a princess cut diamond single halo engagement ring.

"It's exquisite," Harry said, biting back on her gut reaction.

She felt sick.

"Yeah, it looks okay to me. You think she'll be happy with it?"

She managed a stiff sort of smile. "I don't think the 'it' is really in question, Dempsey."

He stared down at the ring. "Guess not. It's a pretty cool rock"

"You don't think it might be too soon though?"

She knew she should be offering her congratulations, telling him how pleased she was for him – for them, but the words wouldn't come.

"But it feels right." He raised his eyes to hers in a challenge.

"You've known her less than three months!"

He put the box down on the table, the lid still open and hunched over it, gazing fervently.

"Semantics."

It was sinking in now, the enormity of what he'd said.

"But it's a fact. You've literally only known each other a matter of weeks. Are you sure you've thought this through?"

"I've thought about nothin' else, Harry." He shrugged helplessly. "I've fallen in love."

That was so hard to hear. He'd intimated as much but actually having him come out and say it, it broke something inside her.

"And are you sure she feels the same, I mean, enough for marriage to be a reasonable suggestion?"

"I'll find that out soon enough, won't I. I'm gonna pop the question Saturday night. I made reservations at Romano's."

Harry looked at him aghast. "You're going to ask her to marry you in a restaurant?! You really need to be certain of her answer to do that, you know."

"I'm quietly confident as they say."

He was looking pleased with himself now, grinning from ear to ear and Harry wanted to take him by his jacket lapels and shake him until reason prevailed.

"I just don't understand why you're jumping in so soon. Why the rush? You've got all the time in the world." All the hackneyed expressions.

And then, as though his news wasn't enough of a shock, another preposterous notion hit her head-on.

"Please do not tell me this is you doing the decent thing here, Dempsey… you haven't got her pregnant?"

He picked up his fresh pint, keeping her waiting whilst he drank.

"You realise that's a really sexist remark, princess? It takes two to tango; men and women have to take equal responsibility for these things, ya know. And besides, shotgun weddings went out with bobby soxers. Wake up and smell the eighties."

"Well then, give yourself some more time to think about it."

Their temperaments seemed to have switched. Now it was Harry who was jittery and anxiety-ridden and Dempsey, issue out in the open was relaxed enough to joke around with it.

"What's to think about?" He gave her a sidelong look. "Am I sensing disapproval here? I thought you liked her."

"I do, of course I do but it's such a huge step. What's wrong with living together first? Just get to know each other properly before you do something you may come to regret."

Did she sound desperate? He couldn't marry April, he just couldn't. It would be the end of everything and what they had together, that connection would be broken irreparably. She couldn't do her job without him being him. He was her partner… hers. They both lived for their work and that meant they needed each other just the way they were.

He had to stay crazy and demanding, irreverent and funny, bold and crass and charming and everything else that made James Dempsey who he was.

He was watching her intently, trying to read her and if she wasn't careful, he'd see right through her.

"I'm sorry." She gave a small laugh as though to draw a line under her outburst. "I'm just in shock. I never thought I'd see the day, that's all. You've actually met your match."

His eyes softened, forgiving her and conveying his understanding of her reaction.

"She ain't even said yes yet. Maybe she'll kick me to the kerb. Besides, I wasn't plannin' on getting' married right away. There's that engagement thing, a.k.a, a period of time whereby both parties may or may not realise they've made a terrible error of judgment and have the opportunity to back out of the shitstorm and tip-toe away quietly."

Harry reached out to toy with her wine glass, turning it repeatedly on its base, rotating it again and again. "I didn't mean to sound so negative. "I'm sorry," she apologised again.

She picked the glass up then and finished it off in two large gulps.

"I know it's out of character but… I don't know, when you find that someone special, you just wanna hang onto them, do whatever it takes to keep them close, ya know?"

Harry wished he wouldn't look at her like that, his eyes so penetrating, so desperate to make her understand his feelings for April.

She tried for a sympathetic smile as she rose sharply. "I need a refill," she said, waggling her glass. "Are you alright for now?"

He placed his hand flat across the top of the half pint that was left. "I'm good – for now. Are we lookin' to get spun tonight, Sergeant?"

She didn't know if the 'we' implied her alone or if it was an invitation to get drunk together. The former seemed by far the more likely, after all, when was the last time the two of them had even been out for a drink after work, let alone 'tied one on'?

So, he was implying that his unexpected news had driven her to drink then?

"One for the road," she said lightly.

Gary was busy serving another customer when Harry went up to the bar but the moment the transaction was complete he made a bee-line for her.

"I know I haven't been around for a while but it looks like things have moved on a bit since I've been gone." He nodded over to their table where the ring box still sat whilst he poured. "You and Dempsey?"

Harry glanced over her shoulder. "Hardly," she scoffed. " _April_ and Dempsey. Although _anybody_ and Dempsey is pretty hard to imagine I suppose when it comes to the state of holy matrimony. Keep it under your hat though or I'll be in no end of trouble."

Gary winked. "Well we wouldn't want that, would we?"

He slid the drink across to her. "Although if I remember Dempsey right, I'm predicting cold feet long before he walks her up the aisle. Never had him pegged as the marrying kind."

"Mmm. Watch this space," she told him with a rolling of the eyes - which also went some way to holding back the gathering tears.

* * *

They'd called it a night after the two drinks. Although the conversation switched to other topics, it was mainly work-focussed thanks to Harry who feared the subject could turn back to the proposal at any given moment. She had already spoken her mind a bit too freely but the addition of alcohol might very well trigger a row or more likely open the floodgates. As she had driven home, she had clung to the opinion of Gary the barman – Dempsey would get cold feet before he made it to the altar.

* * *

 **Sorry abeed, debharding & mini metro... I'm so predictable, aren't I? ;-) And aunt sal, you and Harry both had the same thought #preggers LOloLOLol**


	7. Aren't You Already There?

**Chapter 7 – Aren't You Already There?**

 ** _Can miles truly separate you from friends... If you want to be with someone you love, aren't you already there? - Richard Bach_**

* * *

Literally dreading work on Monday morning, Harry had arrived early so as to be already ensconced in paperwork by the time he arrived, thereby making only a perfunctory acknowledgment necessary. Her Sunday evening had been wrecked when upon returning around 5:00pm after a long, leisurely lunch at Angela and Mike's, she had found an answer machine message waiting for her. Dempsey had 'phoned at around 11:00am with the news that April had accepted his proposal on Friday night. He also asked that she keep it to herself for now – this was a big deal for him and he didn't want to jinx it, plus the guys would be all over it so for now, he preferred to keep it just between themselves.

She was miserable. Things would never be the same again between them. All that flirty banter had already dried up and she missed it, the lost opportunities to wheedle his way into her affections and her bed left like gaping holes in their conversations. Did he even notice, she wondered?

Somewhere at the back of his mind, did it wrangle that he'd never got her into bed? Strangely though, for quite some time before April, she had sensed that this hadn't been his goal anymore. It had felt as though his aim had changed trajectory and sex was no longer the target but the prize to be won. But obviously it had been her imagination as her defences had slowly crumbled and she had allowed the undeniable attraction to take a hold. She had wanted to believe that _she_ could change him, that he'd be willing to change for her. How ironic that he had fallen hook, line and sinker then for another woman, just when the realisation that she really didn't want him to change had dawned.

* * *

"Nice weekend?" she asked, keeping her eyes averted for a moment before glancing across with a smile designed to reflect the required degree of secretiveness within the question.

"Great weekend," he beamed. "And yours?"

"Wonderful. Thank you." The inflection she put in her voice was for the benefit of their 'in' joke but it sounded worryingly like sarcasm to her. Yes, an absolutely wonderful weekend spent for the most part wallowing in self-pity and wondering how on earth she was going to cope with losing Dempsey to his perfect new wife – she'd had no doubt that April would say yes to the proposal.

Once they left the neutral zone of SI-10 though, Harry's nonpartisan attitude was forced aside and she offered hearty congratulations, asking if the occasion had brought out the romantic in him. She had a notion that remembering the impassioned plea he had once made to her inside the Natural History Museum, going down on one knee to ask for April's hand would be a given.

She sat with a rictus smile whilst he described the Italian restaurant and the Champagne flutes which were brought to the table at the end of the main course, one of which contained the diamond engagement ring.

This faked avidity was crippling. She wasn't an actress, she couldn't conjure up joy where none existed and the strain of it induced a dark anxiety.

It wasn't going to work, she could see that now, knew without a doubt that their working partnership was doomed to failure and their personal relationship, something which must be boxed up and dark-holed. Whatever it was that they had, the chemistry, this bond, it had to be over now and surely he must know that too. He had made his choice.

"We must go out again – the four of us – to celebrate. I know Richard will be pleased for you both."

The words stuck like dry porridge oats on her tongue. Self-inflicted torture was what she was trying to organise for herself. But it was true of course that Richard would be delighted, their engagement spelling the end of what he perceived to be unacceptably close working ties.

"Okay," he smiled expansively, showing what Harry always thought of as his 'happy gap', that gap between his two front teeth which was only highlighted when he gave one of those dazzlingly broad grins of his. "I'll talk to my fiancé tonight," – _humorous_ _emphasis on fiancé_ – "an' we'll get somethin' set up."

* * *

Over the next few days, Harry found herself acutely aware of her partner, his traits and mannerisms, his pattern of speech, the timbre of his voice. The way in which he could switch between good cop and bad cop at the drop of a hat used to make her wonder if he hadn't got some kind of psychological issue but that thought just made her laugh these days – it was just Dempsey 'in the zone' as he put it. He knew people, knew how they operated, knew how their minds worked – he could read them and use that to maximum advantage in the line of duty. He wasn't so much a maverick cop as a master of the human condition. Detective Chief Superintendent Spikings recognised it also of course otherwise Dempsey would have been on a jumbo jet back to the good ole U.S. of A at the first opportunity for deportation.

And it was with that thought that Harry really began to get ahead of herself.

When Harry had resigned last year, Dempsey had been prepared to throw in the towel too because if he couldn't work with her, there was no point being in the U.K at all. He had been prepared to go back home to The States. And now? With the dynamics of their partnership in doubt, with a new wife to focus on, would he choose to up-sticks and take April back to his family in New Work?

It was disconcerting, how much he had come to mean to her, creeping up on her, enveloping her like a warm quilt. Who would ever have dreamed she would have been so comfortable with the man – and so needful of him.

So, she had to ask because it was gnawing away at her.

"Where do you think you'll live once you're married?"

The question appeared to make him uncomfortable. "We haven't decided. Sue would need to find someone else to share the apartment with before April moved out – she wouldn't make the rent on her own."

"Oh, I see."

Was it a bone of contention between them, maybe?

"April isn't going to move in with you in the meantime then?" she pushed, cruelly hoping that she had found a sore spot.

"That's an option, sure."

"Isn't she keen on turning your hedonistic pleasure palace into a love nest made for two?"

Not so long ago that would have sounded playfully sarcastic, now it just came across as snide and scornful.

"A clean slate would be good."

Was that it – she didn't want to be reminded of his past conquests within those four walls? The thought of all the women he'd had in that bed was too much? Listen to yourself, Harriet! She hasn't known him long enough to be aware of any of his history with the fairer sex. She doesn't know him like you do. You're superimposing your own feelings onto her. She doesn't have a clue. She doesn't know the first thing about him, does she?

"Might a clean slate mean going back to America?"

She had said that in such a stilted fashion, as though she had rehearsed it again and again.

He actually stopped and stared her right in the eye.

"It's crossed my mind."

Her heart was thumping now. _'Well go then! It'd make it so much easier if I never had to see you again,'_ she cried out inside her head.

"Is it something you've discussed with April?" she asked, trying hard to sound casual. She had to know, she had to know what the chances were of him disappearing from her life forever.

"Nope."

His rich, dark voice was so soft that it gave her chills.

"If it's even entered your head, maybe you should," she prodded. " All these huge, life-changing decisions aren't to be taken lightly. They need a great deal of consideration. **"** _Stating the bleedin' obvious!_ She cringed, mentally.

"You still think me gettin' hitched is a mistake, dontcha?"

They'd been sitting down here in the basement archives of the used car dealership for over an hour now. A long-established business, there was over thirty years-worth of paperwork stored away in cardboard boxes. Some of it was neatly filed in perfect date order but a lot, depending on who had been doing the administrative role at the time, was rather haphazardly stashed. Unfortunately, the ones who did their job thoroughly hadn't felt able to tackle their predecessor's failings it seemed.

"Bingo!" Harry held up a manilla document wallet with the words 'Ford – June 1978' handwritten across the flap.

Dempsey didn't respond and she knew he wasn't going to be deterred from getting his answer.

"I have no idea whether it would be a mistake or not," she said when the silence became too much. "Who knows, you might live happily ever after and you can say 'I told you so' as April is popping out baby number three."

He grunted out a half-laugh, taking the wallet from her hands as he leaned back in the plastic chair. "So, tell me somethin', Makepeace."

It took her a moment to summon up the courage to look him in the eye. "What would that be, Dempsey?" she asked coolly.

"Would you miss me?"

A thousand answers tore through her mind resulting in a blockage when it came to articulating her reply.

"I don't… it's not… you're my partner. Of course I'd miss you," she settled on, keeping it neutral.

Dempsey nodded. "Good to know. Everybody needs to hear they made a mark, ha?"

There was so much more she wanted to say but really, what was the point? He'd found the woman he wanted to make a new life with and it most definitely wasn't her. Besides, even the notion was ludicrous; everyone knew they were chalk and cheese. Just because she… well, fancied him in the broadest terms, was attracted to him in slightly more defined terms and yes if she was going to be brutally honest with herself, harboured a whole messy confusion of feelings for him which overshadowed her life with that debilitating illness called love. There was just an outside chance that it was simply good old-fashioned lust that was toying with her emotions but she was wise enough to know where that kind of _need_ ended and love took over.


	8. No Disguise

**Chapter 8 - No Disguise**

 _There is no disguise which can hide love for long where it exists or simulate it where it does not._ **\- La Ro _chefoucauld_**

* * *

The next day was Wednesday and immediately after the morning run-through of the team's current case load with Spikings, Dempsey came up behind Harry as she washed her coffee cup out in the kitchenette.

"Gonna have to take a rain check on tomorrow night, Makepeace. April's got some family problems to deal with so she's driving up to Yorkshire for a few days."

Harry wouldn't be losing any sleep over missing out on the opportunity to celebrate with the happy couple and inwardly she breathed a sigh of relief.

"Oh dear. That sounds a bit serious. Has somebody been taken ill?" She took his mug off him and gave it a scrub out.

"Nah. It ain't life an' death but the family's tight so she wants to be around, ya know."

She wondered if he'd broached the subject of April upping sticks and emigrating to America yet. Somehow, she couldn't imagine her agreeing too readily. If it was something Dempsey had his heart set on, he'd be needing every ounce of charm and all his powers of persuasion to get her there it would seem.

"Give her my best won't you and tell her I hope everything works out alright."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll tell her. Thanks. An' we'll fix up another date sometime."

'Sometime' sounded pleasantly vague. Her mind's eye brought a future time into sharp focus; James and April sitting close together on a pub bench seat, leaning up against each other as they told Harry in that nauseatingly 'round robin' fashion that couples in love use, of their plans to move to New York.

Rather damningly, this mind's eye scene hadn't even been able to conjure up a Richard to dilute the agony. The inevitable rather than portent really though.

Freddie was in town this week; arriving on the Wednesday and going back home to Kent on the Sunday afternoon. As arranged, Harry popped over to his Chelsea flat for dinner after work, grateful to get a break from her self-imposed frustrations which spending the latter part of the day in such close proximity in a confined space with Dempsey had brought her.

Being with her father lifted a weight from her shoulders. His light, gentle humour and easy manner was a balm to her bruised emotions and she felt her equilibrium restored somewhat.

The old man had picked up on her mood early on and asked how things were going with Richard. Her reply must have indicated to him that her slightly dispirited demeaner had no connection to her relationship with her new beau and rather alarmingly in Harry's view, immediately went on to enquire after her partner instead. It hadn't been her intention to bring up Dempsey's upcoming nuptials but at the moment, the two were synonymous and the revelation just sort of fell from her lips.

"And he's known the girl for three months you say?" Freddie clarified, a mild frown deepening his wrinkle. "Well forgive me for saying but if the marriage even lasts as long as the courtship, I'll stand shooting! What on earth is the man playing at?"

Harry had shrugged her shoulders, declaring herself to be as much in the dark as he. "It's insanity, I know. I practically told him as much."

"Well I would say 'practically' doesn't quite cut the mustard, my darling. Why haven't you just told the man what a damned fool he's being?"

Harry had readily accepted the glass of brandy he'd offered her after dinner, the turn in the conversation brushing her nerve endings.

"Not really my place, Freddie."

"I wouldn't have thought there's anyone better placed than you."

"I'm just a work colleague."

But even as she had said it she'd known it wasn't true and her father was quick to jump on it too.

"Come, come, Harriet. I know for a fact Dempsey counts you as a friend and as such your opinions matter. Doesn't he trust you with his life on a regular basis? I'm sure you could at least get him to stand back and take stock of the situation. Something strikes me as being very wrong here, darling as I'm sure it must you too. Dempsey simply isn't the type of fellow to act this impulsively."

"Maybe he's going through a mid-life crisis," she had smiled ruefully.

"Quite possible. But let me tell you something my sweetheart, love can make men act rashly at times, out of character, even more so than women in my experience."

"It certainly seems to be the case where he's concerned doesn't it?"

Freddie Winfield had simply smiled and nodded thoughtfully.

* * *

Whilst chatting about his plans to meet up with various acquaintances and listing a couple of errands he needed to run, Harry volunteered to bank a cheque for him, knowing that a meeting she had scheduled in the Westminster area the following morning would take her right past the door of Freddie's branch.

The old man was extremely grateful as the cheque amount was quite large and it would have involved a special trip into the area which was annoying.

So, on Thursday morning at 11:30am right after her 'friendly chat' with a suspiciously evasive stock broker, Harry joined the end of the short queue in front of the third bank teller's window. Checking her watch, she realised she would be cutting it fine if the queue didn't subside quickly as she'd agreed to liaise with Dempsey at 12:30pm to discuss their respective mornings work.

To pass the time, Harry found herself looking up and admiring the beautiful internal architecture of the building. The intricate architrave and ceiling cornicing along with the mahogany panelling was magnificent.

She was searching for some kind of plaque or inlaid brick work which might indicate when the bank had been built when she realised that the person in front of her in the queue had just completed his transaction and was moving away from the window.

It had never occurred to Harry to ask which branch of Lloyds April worked in and it took her completely by surprise to see her sitting behind the glass partition.

"Oh! Hello. I hadn't realised you worked here," Harry said, dropping her father's paying in book into the sliding trough in front of her.

April flushed profusely. "Hi. Hi, Harry. How are you?"

Her smile was nervous and she appeared incredibly flustered as she made a grab for the book.

It was at this point that Harry suddenly remembered that Dempsey's girlfriend was supposed to be visiting some sick relative or other up north. So what was she doing at work and why was she so uncomfortable?

"Fine, thanks. Just running an errand for my father. He's come up to London for a few days."

"Oh, that's nice."

The colour had deepened.

Had she lied to Dempsey then? But why? Why did she need to pretend she'd gone away to her parents in Yorkshire?

"Everything okay with you?" she asked, trying hard to keep from verbalising her suspicious thoughts.

April was making a meal out of Freddie's cheque, concentrating on what she was doing as though she was handling a million pounds in some obscure currency.

"Mmm. Yes, thanks." She rubber stamped the paying in book and carefully wrote her initials down. This should clear by next Wednesday at the latest. Is that going to be okay?" April asked obsequiously and Harry wondered what she would do if she told her it wouldn't be okay – go into meltdown probably.

"No, that's fine. He isn't in any rush."

April tucked her hair behind her ear nervously. "Okay then. Really sorry I can't chat but it's our busiest period… lunchtime, you know." She was putting an end to this awkward situation then.

Seeing her lace her hands together on top of the counter, Harry did a double take. She had been just about to offer her congratulations on her engagement as her parting words when she noticed something quite peculiar. April wore a ring on the third finger of her right hand but her left hand was bare. For a second, she thought she was mistaken and her brain was seeing things in reverse but no – and the ring on her right hand certainly wasn't the one Dempsey had given her.

What did it all mean? Had they broken up? Was she lying to Dempsey for some reason? Did he even know she hadn't gone to Yorkshire? Whatever it was, the woman was clearly painfully embarrassed about it and that left Harry with something of a dilemma, didn't it?

* * *

 **I was persuaded to post this chapter by** abeed **,** aunt sal **and** suzywoo70 **based on the theory that a Bank Holiday Monday is basically another Sunday 'in disguise'.** debharding **had a good old nag too ;-D**

 **Thanks to everyone who's been reviewing, it's always so lovely to get feedback from you lot and when someone new or someone I don't often see pops up, that just makes my day.**

 **K**

 **X**


	9. The Way We Seem To Think

Sorry, just had to post this again as the site removed the all-important sandwich content description for some weird reason. It must've thought 'roast beef' was swearing.

 **Chapter 9 – The Way We Seem To Think**

 _Love does not begin and end the way we seem to think it does. Love is a battle, love is a war; love is a growing up – **James Baldwin**_

* * *

She got back to the SI-10 offices late and whilst it wasn't strictly speaking necessary to apologise to Dempsey as he was unaware of her personal errand, the tinge of guilt she felt, knowing she intended to keep quiet about her unexpected encounter with April brought forth a gushing atonement.

"Hey, no problem. We have lunch reservations I didn't know about or somethin'?" he joked, looking slightly puzzled.

She would bring it up, just not now. Too awkward at work. What if he went off at the deep end and caused a scene. And she couldn't have got it wrong – April definitely wasn't meant to be here today, that was the whole reason their night out as a foursome had been cancelled. Oh, but God, that was it wasn't it? Like Richard, April simply didn't want to do the double date thing because she was jealous of the relationship Harry had with Dempsey. She must have thought that Dempsey had told her and had been embarrassed coming face to face with Harry.

Harry suddenly felt quite weary. It seemed the only one happy with the situation was Dempsey himself. He was either oblivious to or unconcerned by the turmoil going on in their interconnected lives; he had April and that was all he was interested in.

"Have you eaten?" Harry asked.

"You?"

"I should've bought something on my way in," she lamented.

Dempsey reached down and opened the bottom drawer of his desk. "Lucky you didn't 'cause I got it covered."

Two white paper bags were deposited on the corner of his desk.

She smiled. "I do hope you didn't make a song and dance about it this time."

"Roast beef or shrimp salad with mayo?" he offered.

"You should be careful, offering me a choice like that, Dempsey, you might lose out."

He'd got the prawn salad for her and the roast beef for himself so his question was purely tokenism. He liked to prove how well he knew her just to annoy her. She knew it was a game he played.

He raised an eyebrow.

Sidling over, Harry rested a buttock on the edge of the desk and snatched up the bag with ' R. Beef ' scrawled across it in blue ink. "Thank you," she said, crisply.

He thought he was so smart, didn't he?

Grinning, Dempsey grabbed the other sandwich bag, tore it open and took a large bite.

"You're welcome, princess." His free hand had picked up a red biro which he absently twizzled between finger and thumb as he watched Harry unfold her bag.

She stopped, stock still, her eyes drawn to the now exposed top right- hand corner. Then she leant forward to examine Dempsey's bag containing the prawn salad sandwich, the large red 'D' corresponding with the 'M' written on hers.

"Enjoy," he smirked.

* * *

After lunch, they spent the rest of the afternoon tramping the streets of Soho, looking for the prostitute whom Harry's stock broker lead had referred to as his 'Friday night light entertainment'. This woman allegedly had the ear of a senior civil servant who was passing on some rather sensitive information in return for a hefty chunk of the insider trading proceeds. The men never had to meet and the prostitute, Athena as she called herself, acted as conduit.

They got her to talk after a fashion although not enough to get them where they needed to be.

"Fancy the pub?" asked Harry casually at just gone 6:00pm. "I'm assuming you don't need to rush off tonight with April being away."

"You ain't seein' Richard?"

There had been nothing in his manner that would indicate trouble in paradise - she'd been watching closely.

"No," she answered airily, "not 'til the weekend." She didn't want him thinking they were joined at the hip which she then realised was probably her own subliminal dig at his and April's seemingly indurated relationship.

So then, April wasn't being honest about something and now Harry had to decide whether it was right for her to tell Dempsey what she knew. She was finding it difficult to get around the idea that she might be telling him out of spite. She wanted April to be guilty of something, for Dempsey to be wounded by her, to be hurt by her. And afterwards, Harry would be there to pick up the pieces, wouldn't she.

She remembered three years ago when she hadn't known him quite so well, he'd turned up at Stringfellow's night club when she was rather the worse for wear. Her best friend Angela had taken a shine to him and it had provoked a feeling of possessiveness within her. ' _He's mine'_ , she'd told Angela, _'my own private dick'_ and if she'd had her way, in her inebriated state, she would have _had_ him! The fact that Dempsey had been the perfect gentleman had only peaked her interest in her partner and gone some way to gaining her respect. That was the first time she recalled wanting him.

"Grab a seat and I'll get us some drinks," Dempsey said, holding open the door for her to walk in ahead of him.

"You don't know what I want yet," said Harry mildly.

"You know somethin' princess, you're right. You're gonna have to tell me."

Harry stopped and turned back, hearing something in his voice that tinged his reply with sadness where she would have expected humour. It had been her intention to request something out of the ordinary to fool him, to make him laugh but now that would seem churlish.

"Surprise me," she said with a glint of mischief to buoy the situation.

He gave her a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I can do that alright."

He wandered away to the bar which was busy with early evening drinkers and Harry found a table. She'd pictured it being quieter in here, more in keeping with the purpose of the visit. But she couldn't back out now because he'd sense something was wrong and he'd either question her or leave it hanging which would be worse because she hated it when an atmosphere existed between them.

He came back with a beer for himself and some red concoction in a short tumbler filled with ice and a straw for her.

"That looks interesting," she commented wryly.

"It's an Alabama Slammer."

He watched her take a sip through the straw.

" _Very_ interesting," was her verdict.

"Maybe you should just let me second guess you from now on."

"And have you thinking you know me?" she smirked. "I'd rather suffer the consequence." She raised her glass to him and looked approvingly at the drink. "Cheers."

Again, he didn't seem to take her joke in the spirit in which it was intended.

"So you remember I told you Freddie's up in London?" she ventured.

"Yeah, sure. How's he doin'?"

"Oh, he's fine. I saw him last night." She sucked concentratedly on her straw. "He had a largish cheque which needed paying into the bank and I volunteered to take it for him. He banks with Lloyds so I popped into the Butler Place branch in Westminster this morning."

"Yeah?"

She noted how he picked up his pint and hunkered forward to mask his discomfort.

"Mmm. I was served by April which I thought was a bit odd seeing as she was supposed to be visiting her family today wasn't she?" Dempsey kept his hand around his glass and continued to stare down into it. "I didn't say anything in case I'd got it wrong… but she seemed quite embarrassed. Very embarrassed actually."

He just nodded.

Harry sat back in her chair. "So now I'm wondering, have I just opened up a can of worms or did you know? Sorry, I'm not prying. It's your business, it's just that I thought if you didn't know, you'd probably want to."

"I knew."

"Ah." Now it was Harry's turn to seek out a distraction and she slashed her straw around in the ice briefly before taking a long drink. "You know you only had to say."

"Say what?" he asked quietly.

"That April wasn't happy going out as a foursome…actually, Richard feels the same, so I understand the situation."

"No. Trust me, you don't, princess. You really don't."

Cautiously, she asked, "Why? What's going on between you two?"

He picked up his beer, swilled it around and took a draught. "Nothin'."

Harry felt awkward now. "Alright. I was just concerned that April was… I don't know, I thought she might be lying to you about going to Yorkshire."

"She didn't lie. I did, okay?"

"You mean 'you' didn't want to do the double dating thing?"

He appeared restless, fingers sliding wretchedly through his hair, a manifestation of the stress that was brewing up.

"Forget the double dating, forget Yorkshire, in fact, you can forget my 'fiance' too. I lied about it all, Harry!"

"What?" She laughed uncomfortably. "What do you mean?"

She really didn't understand. What else was he supposed to have lied about if it wasn't just about going out tonight?

"Me an' April," he began, his voice low, "we broke up."

"I'm sorry." Her heart skipped and she felt bad for that little spike of adrenaline.

"We broke up weeks back." He couldn't look at her.

Harry didn't know what to say as she tried to process the implications of that but suddenly she didn't want to be here in this pub any longer.

"But… why pretend you were still together? It doesn't make sense."

Dempsey had dated literally dozens of girls in the time she had known him so what was it that had made April so different that he'd felt the need to fabricate a relationship once they had ended the affair?

"You know, I could sum it up in one word but you'd freak out," he said.

She could see he was struggling with this, it was a burden he'd been carrying around for a while it seemed.

"I wish you would." She smiled nervously. "To be honest, you're worrying me a little bit now."

"Look, we can't talk here. I'm gonna look like I'm cryin' in my beer. Can we go someplace else?"

Dempsey looked dejected, absolutely miserable in a way she had never seen him before.

"Mine? We're only fifteen minutes away aren't we?" she said in a small voice, her heart going out to him.


	10. Lovers Have A Right

**Chapter 10 – Lovers Have A Right**

 _Lovers have a right to betray you, friends don't – Judy Holliday_

* * *

The fifteen minute journey seemed to last an eternity.

They were in Harry's car, Dempsey's having been left back at the factory whilst they'd spent the afternoon doing legwork. He clearly didn't want to continue with the conversation that had started in the pub, instead sitting in silence for the most part leaving Harry to fill the void with speculation about the case. She knew she was over-talking, just letting her random thoughts spill out so that she didn't have to over-think.

When they got to Camberwell Grove, Harry let them in and without asking, poured them both a large brandy.

After downing half of it in one, Dempsey sat back on the comfortable cream sofa, glass still in hand and closed his eyes.

Deciding to give him some space, Harry sat opposite on the other sofa rather than beside him. She didn't think she'd ever seen him quite so emotionally strung out the entire time she had known him.

"You really do need to talk about this, James."

His eyes remained shut. "I know."

"I just don't understand the secrecy." There was no response and after a pause, she asked, "How long ago did you split up? Maybe if you start with that. If it's painfully embarrassing of course, I don't expect the ins and outs – if its…well… personal."

It was dusk and a wash of grey had swept the sitting room. She should have thought about it when they got home and put some lights on but maybe this was for the better all things considered, the gloom acting as a veil between them and lending a confessional box atmosphere.

With his eyes still shut, Dempsey just shook his head, a slight smile at his lips.

"Did you get caught messing around with somebody else?" she asked tentatively. The most obvious of questions yet strangely, these days,also the one with the least likelihood.

His eyes opened at her suggestion and he took another sip of brandy. "Close but no cigar," he chuckled.

"For heaven's sake, James. Just tell me. Get it off your chest. I promise you won't shock me, whatever it is."

He lifted his glass, mocking her words. "You wanna lay odds on that, huh?"

"Try me," she challenged.

"Okay, you want the truth, try this on for size." Dempsey finished off his drink and got up to pour himself another. "April ditched me around a month ago. That last night out we had, when I took you to the hospital – the day after that she dumped my sorry ass."

So Harry had been right about that; like Richard, April was jealous of their close relationship.

"You ain't gonna ask why?" he said when Harry didn't respond.

"Because we work together too closely for some girlfriend's… or boyfriend's liking. I know how it goes."

Dempsey went back to his sofa and sat forward, the glass between both hands. "You might think you do but believe me, you really don't."

Had April turned into some sort of raving, jealous psychopath, Harry wondered.

"It really got to her, ya know, she'd read into everythin' an' she wouldn't let it go. Every time she thought she saw somethin' between us, like the way I'd look at you or I'd say somethin' to you that she would think meant somethin' else. She'd even pick up on my body language when I was near you."

"That must've been hard to cope with," Harry sympathised. "You should've said something." But it wasn't quite adding up. "And why pretend you were still seeing her? Dempsey, you were never actually engaged to her, were you?!" she realised. "Why on earth would you make something like that up? It makes no sense."

"Because…" Dempsey took another slug of his brandy, "because I wanted to provoke a reaction from you, I wanted opposition."

"Well you got that in spades. It was ridiculous, wanting to marry her after three months. But you didn't really want to I take it."

"What I wanted, Harry," he said solemnly, "was for you to care."

Harry was shocked and irritated at the same time. "Of course I cared. I've always cared. I saw you making a huge mistake and it was killing me. April's a lovely girl but…"

"But she isn't you," he ground out and looked up to catch her reaction.

What was that supposed to mean? That he knew she was in love with him? He was mocking her then, highlighting what was tantamount to a silly, schoolgirl crush?

"I don't think I understand what you mean," she said stiffly. She felt her cheeks colour and was grateful once again for the inadequate lighting. "If you're trying to insinuate that I felt I was in competition with your girlfriend then you're very much mistaken."

"Harry, you ain't listenin' to me… what she accused me of, of having feelings for you, bein' too close…" He looked away, a hand passing across the back of his neck in agitation. "She didn't imagine any of those things because it was all true and I can't do this no more. I'm tired of it, I'm tired of bein' pathetic. It ain't never gonna happen, you an' me. I've been thinkin' for too long that I could force somethin' ya know but I've been foolin' myself. We're too different. When April came along, it was like, wow, she's perfect an' then it hit me that I was just seeing a paler version of you. She had the looks, ya know, the blonde hair, the blue eyes and she was a nice girl – we got on great, but when it came down to it, she was a substitute – for you."

"Dempsey… I… I don't know what to say."

He stood up, tipped back the remainder of his drink and put the empty glass down on the coffee table.

"That's okay, princess, I think I said more than enough for the both of us. I'm done. I'm outta here. I'll hand my badge in to Spikings in the morning and head home. It's long overdue anyways, right?"

Harry sprang up in a blind panic. "You cant! You idiot. You're such a bloody idiot. You're seriously telling me that this thing with you and April, this romance of the century was a sham?"

"I wanted you to feel somethin' for me, Harry but it didn't happen so now I'm gonna bow out gracefully."

"You weren't ever in love with her?"

Dempsey held up his hands. "And the award for best actor goes to…"

She took a few steps towards him but stopped short, feeling a bit light headed.

"It's all been lies, hasn't it – you've been lying to me for weeks! You've been making up elaborate stories, asking my advice about meeting April's parents!" She heard her voice rising. "And going to Liverpool to see her brother… and the baby… do you even know if his wife's really _had_ the baby yet?" Anger was rising too as the extent of Dempsey's deception began to unravel in her mind.

"She did. I talked to April on the 'phone a while back. I was feelin' shitty about the way things had ended and I wanted to apologise."

"Well, that was very noble of you," she said with brittle irony. Her voice trembled now. " **'** Whenever a man does a thoroughly stupid thing, it is always from the noblest motives **'** ," she quoted. "Wilde!"

"Yeah, I can see that." But Dempsey's attempt at levity only ignited her fury.

"The proposal at the restaurant with the Champagne flutes – that never happened either. You actually bought a diamond engagement ring.. you showed me that engagement ring… you asked for my approval of that engagement ring, knowing the whole thing was a set-up!" Harsh. Accusing.

"It got out of hand. You got me all kinds of crazy, Harry."

"Out of hand? Are you serious? Out of bloody hand? You didn't just lie, you fabricated an entire three months of your life and I fell for it." She took a step nearer to him, pushing against his chest with both hands balled but for the two fingers of her right hand which were strapped together, "Hook," the fists rose and fell in a striking motion, "line," another violent blow, choler flaming her cheeks, "and bloody sinker!"

This third strike threw Dempsey off balance and he stumbled back a couple of paces. "Steady, Tiger!" he said, grabbing her by the wrists. "That finger won't take another round, no matter how much I deserve it."

"Your really are a shit, aren't you?" she hissed. "A filthy, lying shitty bastard. God, I hate you!"

"I'd hate me too in your place. What can I say, I'm an emotional retard."

He wasn't letting her go and as he continued to fix his gaze upon her tempestuous blue eyes, Harry felt a light begin to dawn within the dark chasm that separated them. He'd said April had been a substitute for her, that he'd wanted her to feel something for him. And more importantly, he'd never actually loved April.

And he seemed to read her thoughts.

"I thought I knew you. I thought if maybe you felt something for me like I do for you, if I kept pushing you, then eventually you'd show it…" his voice trailed off then. "but you never did."

It was all too much too soon. "I can't… I can't believe a word you say anymore. It's like you're playing some sort of sick game."

He finally released her wrists and let her go.

"No game. I wasn't havin' fun. Maybe when I first started seein' April, I got a kick outta flaunting her in front of you or maybe I just wanted you to see that I was capable of fallin' for someone, that I could be a caring and sensitive kinda guy, ya know. I know you think I play fast and loose, that I play the field but I've always known one day, when the right girl came along, I'd give it all up for her like a shot."

Harry raised a finger of warning. "No. No Dempsey. You're not doing this. Just how stupid do you think I am? I still haven't worked out exactly what it is you're up to but whatever it is, I'm not falling for it and you can go to hell!"


	11. The Hour Of Separation

**Chapter 11 – The Hour Of Separation**

 _"Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation."-_ **Kahlil Gibran**

* * *

Dempsey stood completely still, his eyes soulfully reflecting her rejection of him. "This is me, layin' it bare. No more lies, no pretence. I realised _you_ were the right girl after it was too late. I fell in love with you. Dumb thing to do. But hey, it looks like the best man won, huh? Richard is a lucky guy. Hope he steps up."

She too remained motionless - actually struck dumb by his words as they all came together in a maelstrom of emotions inside her.

"Okay. I got it badly wrong. I see that now." He stepped away from her, putting distance between them. "I'm gonna see you at the office in the mornin' an' then after that I'll be outta your hair, okay?"

He turned to leave.

"Don't go." She reached a hand out tentatively but instantly retracted it. "Don't go yet. You can't just walk away now, James. Please."

He waited, his face expressionless.

"This is such a ridiculous situation. We've both just been playing a game of sorts. Richard – I like him but…"

God, what was she supposed to do with her hands? "…it wouldn't have lasted this long if it wasn't for the fact that I thought you were still seeing April. I couldn't even have put it into words why, but I hated seeing you with her so much that I suppose in a twisted way, I thought it might work the other way around too and you'd hate to see me with Richard. I've been so disgusted with myself these last few weeks, basically sleeping with a man in the hopes of extracting just a little bit of jealousy out of you."

Those hands had found their way to the front of his shirt where they fussed with the rough fabric of the beige linen.

"Are you serious? _You_ were tryin' to make _me_ jealous?" He looked down at her hands and back up again incredulously.

"Perfectly. Have you ever known me to lie to you?" She raised a smile, recognising her own unintentional irony. "I've felt the same way for a while. But you're not a steady relationship kinda guy and I'm not a wham-bam-thank you-ma'am kinda girl so I thought that what I've been feeling had no hope of going anywhere and it was all pure madness."

"So you're sayin' what exactly?"

She felt his hands move up to gently rub along her upper arms in a soothing, cajoling gesture, encouraging her to open up.

"That… well, that I think I might have feelings for you too… well of course I do, of course I have feelings, you're my partner, a good friend. But I mean… what I mean is…"

 _For God's sake, why couldn't she even string a sentence together?_

"What do you mean, Harry?"

He was smiling down at her bowed head and when a hooked finger carefully lifted her chin up, she was met by the warmest, most tender gaze she ever remembered encountering throughout her entire adult life.

"I'm in love with you."

The words slipped out naturally. She couldn't have held them in if she'd tried because something told her it was now or never. She couldn't afford to pretend it wasn't real any longer – if she did she would lose him forever

"'kay," he whispered. "So does this mean I won't be on a flight tomorrow night?"

"You'd better bloody well not be," she told him with mock severity and an extremely nervous laugh.

He grinned and bent forward to softly brush his mouth against her cheek. "An' what about Richard? How's that gonna spin out d'you think?"

"I've treated him rather shabbily of late so I don't suppose he'll be too gutted. And I don't need to tell him about… our situation. That would rather be putting the tin lid on it."

She raised her chin a little, feeling like a baby bird waiting to be fed. Dempsey was watching her lips as she spoke and it created an odd sensation, like there was a faintly fluctuating magnetic field between them.

"How far did you intend to take things with April?" she asked quietly, keeping her eyes just short of meeting his. "Would you have booked a date for the wedding, planned the honeymoon, gone house hunting?" She couldn't help the resentful digs as she was seized by the need to lash out at him. "Maybe a pregnancy scare thrown in there that turned out to be exactly what you both wanted?"

There was a rawness in her voice that surprised even Harry. He had wounded her with his lies, whatever his intentions.

"Hey!" He took his hands away from her arms and drew her closer into him. "It was never s'pposed to go as far as it did. I just couldn't give it up, couldn't let go of the idea that you might just show some kinda sign, that there'd be a tiny glimmer of hope for us. I never meant to hurt anybody, least of all you, princess. I couldn't give up on there being an 'us' at the end of it."

It had hurt. Every day had pushed her a little bit more. Watching him fall in love with somebody else had been a consumptive experience that had gnawed at her heart. That it hadn't been real hadn't made it any less painful.

"You've been living such a huge lie, Dempsey!" she exclaimed. "I don't know how you managed to keep it up like you did."

"I only had to lie to you. The whole thing was an illusion; I knew I could pull the plug at any time 'cause all I had to do was tell you I'd broken up with her and it would all be over. And I knew you wouldn't discuss my private business with nobody else so I was safe."

That at least made her smile. "That's where you're wrong. Maybe you don't know me quite as well as you think you do."

"Who'd you tell? You mean you squealed about me getting' hitched?" He looked distinctly anxious. "Jeez, Harry!"

"Sorry." The smile became a smirk. "It was before you'd even asked her - not that you ever really did."

"What?" he questioned.

"Gary?" she prompted. "At The Bramcote on the night you told me of your 'intentions'." She stretched out the word for effect.

"Why'd you tell him?" he asked, trying to hold back on the exasperation that he had no right to.

"Probably because you told me not to."

Harry noticed that the embrace had slackened off a little and wondered if he was genuinely concerned.

"Figures. Still, he must've kept his mouth shut."

"Of course he did – I asked him to," she quipped.

Dempsey gathered her into him roughly. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. One rule for you and screw everybody else, huh?" he growled playfully.

She laughed, despite herself, rather liking the man-handling. "I was annoyed. You were marrying April! And you're extremely good at acting head over heels in love."

"It was all just misdirection."

"You certainly managed to pull the wool over my eyes anyway."

It wasn't quite a pout but whatever her lips did, combined with the morose expression in her eyes, it was enough to draw Dempsey's attention away from the conversation.

When his silent fascination had gone on a moment too long, Harry dared herself to say, "Are you thinking about kissing me or are we waiting for something else I'm as yet unaware of?"

A faint smile fanned gently over her as he seemed to contemplate that. "Do you want me to kiss you? It's just it wasn't too long ago you were tellin' me you hated me so I don't know if you've forgiven me enough for my lips to be hittin' on your lips."

He brought his hand up to hesitantly poke his forefinger through her fringe. "Course, you got this look in your eyes says you wanna smooch my face off but that could just be wishful thinkin', right, 'cause apparently, I don't know you as well as I think I do."

Now fully aware of the affect she was having on him she said, "Sometimes, James, you just have to go with your instincts."

He leaned in closer. "You know somethin', princess? You're right, the nose knows."

Briefly, the tip of his nose brushed against hers and then suddenly, despite the aching anticipation there came the blissful surprise of his mouth, warm and firm on her lips. She made a barely audible sound, a tiny sigh of pleasure and his mouth released her softly, his eyes dancing with hers before their mouths came together again.

They'd kissed before; numerous occasions when the 'role' demanded but this was something completely different. The fluidity of his tongue moving against hers was so delicate and sensual and it instilled a feeling of incredible passion that was both thrilling and frightening at the same time. Her mirrored response deepened the kiss until it seemed that they had gone beyond the physical and the act had become a corporeal transfer of emotions. That her body was demanding more, she was only vaguely aware and as she pushed herself against his hard, aroused body, her hands travelling the unchartered contours, Harry gave herself over entirely to the need for pleasure.

"We need to slow this down, angel," said Dempsey hotly, breaking the rapture.

"Why?" she demanded belligerently.

"Because it's too soon. We should do this right."

She began to place feathered kisses along his jawline, edging towards his right ear.

"Do what right exactly?" she whispered wickedly.

Although the fingers which were gently playing over her spine had now stopped their exploration of the smooth flesh beneath her blouse, they showed no sign of retreat. "You know what… the sex thing."

"Sex?" she hissed against his ear, causing him to grunt an acknowledgement. "I'm fairly confident I can do it right, James, so that only leaves you in any doubt it seems."

"Okay, cut it out now. I'm tryin' to be a gentleman here."

She leaned suggestively against him. "What if I'm tired of gentlemen?" Harry sliced her fingers though his hair and held his head between her hands, knowing he would have to give in to her sooner or later.

As their mouths melded once more, the annoyingly perky sound of Harry's doorbell cut through the seduction scene.


	12. Came But For Friendship

**Chapter 12 – Came But For Friendship**

 _Came but for friendship and took away love._ – **Thomas Moore**

* * *

"Don't answer it," said Dempsey gruffly. "The light's ain't on. It's gonna look like no one's home."

"I have to. My car's on the drive so whoever it is will know I'm in. It might even be my father paying me a surprise visit."

Dempsey rolled his eyes as she wriggled free. "Hey, come on, Princess, even I know Freddie don't pay no surprise visits. That ain't how the aristocracy operates. Course," he continued speaking to her retreating back, "it might be Abbot with a calling card an' a request to join your father for high tea tomorrow."

"What a ludicrous suggestion, Dempsey," she called from the hallway, "Freddie never has anyone to high tea on a Tuesday – he's far too busy catching up on his correspondence."

Dempsey chuckled at their banter but then cocked an ear to see if could hear any of the conversation going on at the front door.

"It really isn't a convenient time." Harry's voice rose as her visitor ignored her solid stance at the doorway and entered without invitation.

"Oh yes, I can see that now," said Richard sarcastically as he strode into the sitting room and saw Dempsey.

"Hi, Richard," said Dempsey lightly.

"Well, well, well. What a surprise to see _you_ here, 'Jim'." He grated out his name like it was poison on his tongue.

"Somethin' up?"

"Yes, that shade of lipstick really doesn't suit you. You should've left it on Harry."

Dempsey's posture was immediately smartened up and his hand surreptitiously wiped at his mouth.

"Richard, it…" began Harry, her downcast eyes admitting all.

"It isn't what I think? Is that what you were about to say?"

She knew full well she was in the wrong but would be damned if she'd let Richard sit upon his high horse over a single kiss.

"It isn't and I was," she said tersely.

He looked from one to the other, a sneer making it quite clear what he thought of the pair of them. "I came here to make a clean breast of it and to put you out of your misery, Harry. Because let's face it, things haven't been great between us for a while." He looked Dempsey up and down. "Turns out my suspicions had been right all along."

Dempsey held his hands up and frowned. "Whoaaa, let me stop you right there, pal. Nothin' – and I mean nothin' has been goin' on, not 'til a half hour before you blew in anyways."

"Yeah, well you were hardly going to say anything else."

"And what do you mean, you're puttin' her out of her misery? You came here to dump her!?" asked an astounded Dempsey.

Richard fixed him with a hard glare. "I wouldn't put it quite so crudely – more 'letting her go', I would say."

"You ain't gonna put up a fight? Are you crazy or somethin'? What's the matter with you?"

Harry was indignant. "I am still here you know."

"Oh, come on," said Richard, testily, "have I got 'stupid' tattooed across my forehead? I was always just the understudy, wasn't I? And you were there waiting in the wings, ready to walk out and take centre stage from day one."

"You don't know what you're talking about," scoffed Harry but then Dempsey insisted on making a liar of her.

"It's true. Just wanted an audition, lookin' for my big break."

Harry cringed at his flippancy. He could at least pretend to show some contrition, for her sake if nothing else.

Looking at Richard, Dempsey shrugged, smiling benignly. "I'm sorry. You're right. I wanted Harry for myself because I'm in love with her."

This outburst of honesty from him, whilst causing her heart to make a few revolutions within her chest, was all a bit much for Harry. Declaring his love for her was one thing but saying it to Richard's face was quite another.

"Oh God!" She rolled her eyes at the situation in general and hoped for the best.

Richard appeared quite gleeful. "Is that so? Not really very fair on April, is it? But I don't suppose she's been much of a consideration along the road to true love."

"I ain't proud of the way I've treated her," Dempsey admitted.

"I don't know what game you're playing but it seems to me you've been giving everyone the run-around, not just April." He looked towards Harry. "The night you broke your finger – so we're talking a whole month ago – she gave him the old heave-ho," he said triumphantly. "Never told you that, did he? I don't know if that's because it was a dent to that massive ego of his or there's some ulterior motive."

"I've been made aware," she said cautiously as she mentally pieced together the full meaning behind Richard's visit here tonight.

Dempsey beat her to the vocalisation though. "You've been talkin' to April?"

"Well I said I wanted to make a clean breast of it and given what I've just walked in on, I shan't lose any sleep over my own indiscretions, he replied with a haughtiness Harry was unused to hearing.

"Indiscretions?" she queried lightly, her mind spinning as she tried to decide how uncomfortable she should be feeling with what was coming up.

Ignoring Dempsey, Richard smiled tightly at her. "The intention was to break it to you gently but I don't feel quite so predisposed now so I'll just come out and say it – I've been seeing April."

The words buzzed in the air between them for a few seconds like wasps in search of victims to sting until Harry said extraneously, "I see."

The silence that followed became awkward and then a short laugh from Dempsey escalated into a happy chuckle.

"Wow!" he exclaimed. "For real?"

Looking at him from the corner of her eye, Harry caught onto the humour he saw within the farce and had to look down at the floor. "How long for?" She felt it was obligatory to ask and if nothing else, she was at least curious.

"Not long. Just over the past week. We found we have common ground you see," said Richard, looking annoyed by Dempsey's irreverence. "We were both pissed off with the way the two of you are with each other… it's like having a third person in the relationship. We can't get through a night without his name coming up, Harry, and when the four of us were out, well, anyone would've thought there was something going on. It was bloody painful watching you together."

Harry was trying to summon up some kind of emotion which would indicate to him that she was remotely bothered but it was actually more of relief than anything. Dempsey was in love with her and right now, that was really all that mattered. She did manage to appear suitably ashamed but Dempsey was making even that difficult. Although he was looking away from her, she could see his face was growing red from holding the laughter back as his shoulders shook.

Fortunately, Richard now had his back to him but Harry found herself wanting to giggle.

"I'm sorry. I hadn't realised it was such a problem," she managed.

"It isn't like it hasn't been mentioned before though, is it? It's been an issue between us all along. April's had the exact same conversations with Jim apparently and I come round here tonight and it looks like we've been right all along no matter how much you try to deny it."

She felt like a naughty schoolgirl, caught out in some mischievous prank which required a full apology and a show of genuine regret but the trouble was, she was struggling with both.

A strange, disjointed sort of whine caused them both to turn their heads and there was Dempsey, slightly bent over, an arm pressed up against his stomach and his face screwed up as he tried to hold himself together.

"Oh for Christ's sake!" Richard was obviously disgusted with Dempsey's attitude. "You find this funny, do you? You honestly think there's something amusing in all this?"

Dempsey couldn't hold it in any longer and laughter, high pitched and uncontrolled rose up from his guts to cascade from his mouth in hearty spasms.

"Jeez, Rich…" his hysterical laughter was infectious and Harry, not really knowing why, gave rein to her fit of giggles. "You don't see it?" He had to stop to gasp for air. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay?" He held his free hand up as he tried to apologise and then was overcome by his side-wrenching laughter again. "The whole thing… seriously, you couldn't make this stuff up… it's like, what goes around comes around, ya know." He fell about laughing again as Richard's angry expression morphed into one of exasperated perplexity.

"You know what day it is tomorrow? It's kinda like we've all been had! Think about it. One way or another, we're all April Fools!"

* * *

When the alarm went off, Dempsey awoke to find that Harry was already awake beside him, an ethereal smile ghosting her mouth as he turned his head to meet her eyes.

"Hey," he whispered, a little in awe as he got her and the pleasures of the previous night into focus.

"Hey," she repeated back to him.

"Not sure if I had the energy left to mention it at the time but last night was amazing - you were amazing."

"It was certainly a night to remember," she grinned coquettishly.

Rolling onto his side, he dragged her into his arms, kissing her tenderly. She stretched her lithe body beneath him like a submissive cat, her arms lifting up and her fingers twining around the brass spindles of the bed frame behind their heads.

Things hadn't turned out how he'd expected. He'd anticipated an emotional if embarrassed farewell scene taking place at some point today after a shocked acknowledgment of his declaration last night. What had actually happened had blown him away and in the end. Richard had seen the funny side of things eventually too, their association terminating in a stilted smile and a stiffish handshake which Dempsey figured by British standards meant they were parting on good terms.

"Happy April the first, by the way," Harry said slyly.

He grinned and kissed her again, feeling like the happiest fool in the world.

"Maybe we should celebrate. And next year, we'll call it our April Fool Anniversay."

THE END

* * *

Thanks for reading to the end.

It made me smile when Storybookgirl77 reviewed chapter 3 and said Richard and April should be together. Did you see it coming?

I've been amazed by the number of reviews I've had for this one; It's been like old times. I enjoyed writing it a lot which possibly came across and it makes me think that because I lost my mojo with Present Imperfect, that came across too. Hopefully I'll be able to pick up where I left off now and get back on track with it - that's my intention anyway.

It's been lovely to get reviews from new readers as well. Funny to think there's still such an interest in D&M after all these years.

I went with a bunch of like-minded nutters to see Michael do his Off Ramps one man show last night in Epsom and we're going again tonight to see him do the same thing in Richmond. 73 years old but he's still got it and when you watch him in just the right light, you're seeing Dempsey standing right there in front of you. What a guy! What more inspiration could i ask for?


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